I have not written seriously in close to a decade aside from
occasional song lyrics and poems. But
today, I felt an almost insistent drive to frame my thoughts into words. Over the last several weeks, I have suffered
from what my therapist diagnosed as severe chronic depressive disorder – which over
the last three weeks has weighed on me like all the world pressing down on my
heart and soul. Today, I tapped into the
source of some of this sadness and despair.
Two years ago in early January my father died after
complications from surgery to place a pin in his broken femur. This after a long-fought battle in ICU (Intensive
Care Unit) and out to transitional care then back to ICU over the course of
over three months. Ten months later, my
sister died suddenly just back to home after surgery for breast cancer. Close to eleven years ago this March, my
mother died from congestive heart failure also just back from the hospital’s
ICU after a fight with septicemia brought on by a routine heart catheterization.
At the time of each of their deaths, I grieved – most heavily
for my mother. Needless to say, it left
me devastated. After my father’s
passing, I felt orphaned which seemed ridiculous to me at my age, but is not
uncommon at the passing of your second parent.
When my sister passed, I was well into feeling a bout of
depression. I blamed her son and especially
her daughter for not giving her the post-op care she needed at her home. Her daughter depended on my sister as almost
constant babysitter, which was convenient given she lived next door – and I
thought apparently in reverse it is inconvenient. I do not doubt either of them contended with
their own share of guilt regarding their inattentiveness. I know at some point for my own peace of
mind, I will let that go. But that’s not
the point of today’s writing.
Now, in the grips of depression, I realized I had not
grieved fully for any of these loved ones.
I had barreled through head down in the hopes of getting through to the
other side relatively unscathed. The
result is I am now burdened by grief and sadness for all three
simultaneously. Wracked with tears and
shaking with fear at times to the point of incoherence. Agonizing so deeply to worry and scare my
loved one who is still alive and supports me and loves me through all of
this. Letting me be how I am without judgment
and giving me space and time to contend with my darkness. He is an amazing caretaker!
To the point
Being from a Christian family with strong values and belief
in Heaven and Hell, the need for salvation and their views of the afterlife,
death is cause for celebration. It is
the triumph of the body to release the soul into the eternal presence of the Almighty. Funerals for our family more resemble tent
revivals with upbeat music, praise and elation and little room for grief. At the least, that is my perception of these hallelujah
fests. And if you are to grieve, then
God and the Holy Spirit will be your support and consolation.
While I do not begrudge my family for their beliefs at most
times, I do have to say that for me, it is bullshit. My beliefs are an amalgamation of several
different religious stances from Christian to Buddhist and I might best be
described as a half-ass, agnostic Wiccan.
Now given that, I concluded from the funerary rites described above that
my beliefs of death and grieving were largely precluded by the ones celebrated
all around me for decades at every family funeral I ever attended. Not only that, but these times were viewed by
the preachers of my family, cousins mostly, as times to appeal to everyone that
they needed God – to be saved and that given the state of the recently
deceased, the sooner the better.
Another layer of ideological difference leaving me to feel
even more excluded than ever. Now, I
understand the notion of witnessing and the mission to save souls. I went on sufficient neighborhood canvassing
in my youth to engage people to come try our church. So that they might be saved, for the Bible
says, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” For me, that doesn't work and furthermore, I
do not believe it applies. It has taken
years to realize that feelings of being unworthy of love, of life centered on
this one little tenet that is the major center of the religion into which I was
born. Let alone having the bullies in my
life say so, but to have my family say so endlessly, my friends and community –
no wonder it’s so ingrained, not only in me but several other people in my
spot. I didn't feel unworthy until I was
told, and I wasn't sinful until I was taught it.
So here’s a news flash.
I am whole, perfect and complete – worthy of love and life. When I heard that at my Landmark Forum, I
scarcely believed it. I still to this
day have great trouble letting go of the ingrained story and come out with this
new truth. I love myself and how I
grieve and my beliefs are perfect as well.
I work to believe that with my whole being because before life, religion
and bullies, it was true! I encourage you to
take on this idea as well and let go of any notion that you are unworthy,
unloved or need God or some outside force to approve of your existence.
You are whole, perfect and complete – worthy of love and life! Tell others in your life and surround
yourself with people that will remind you, in case you ever forget.
